


Sweet Little Surprise

by CaptainSwank



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSwank/pseuds/CaptainSwank
Summary: For the FFXV Book Club 2020 Spring Exchange! The prompt was "something cute and preferably funny. Noct surprising Ignis is always a good thing. Lots of snuggles, back rubs, the soft stuff."Noct surprises Ignis with some baking, a back rub and... a kiss.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19
Collections: FFXV Book Club 2020 Spring Exchange





	Sweet Little Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whythekwehnot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whythekwehnot/gifts).



> Sooo... the prompt was about as far out of my comfort zone as it is physically possible to get, so this is me attempting to chart completely new territory. And with that disclaimer, I hope I did an okay job with the prompt...! I do hope you can forgive the soupçon of self indulgence I slipped in at the end there. Worry not, this story has a happy ending. Ignis could never deny his Prince a thing.

Ignis sits in front of Noctis, quiet in his kitchen, locked in a battle of wills, a staring contest with what  _ must _ , according to all evidence before him, be a cake. Of some sort. He can do this, he thinks. He can do this for his Prince. He digs his fork into the thing, and just in case this is the last time he’ll ever see him before his rapidly approaching poisoning and eventual demise, he dares a peek at the boy before him. 

Noctis turns his head away but looks up at Ignis out of the corner of his eye. Ignis is dreadfully amused by his Prince’s attempt to cover up his eagerness for Ignis’s praise. He enters a note into the exhaustive day planner that is his mind to put time aside to further instruct Noctis on the benefits of cunning and guile. The ability to school one’s expressions is indeed a useful skill for a future monarch. Perhaps… perhaps a game of poker, thinks Ignis. A lesson construed in an engaging fashion, and he could include Gladio and Prompto as-- 

“Well?” Noctis asks him, colouring faintly. Right, that’s right. Noctis’s baking, or his attempt at it anyway. Ignis realizes he’d had his fork poised and hovering before his mouth as he thought and planned, and had yet to taste this… creation of Noct’s. 

Noctis is staring at his lips. 

He parts them, and delicately nibbles at the thing barely clinging to his fork. He dutifully takes his time with it, evaluating its taste and texture, attempting to discern any balance or subtlety within the recipe. There was absolutely none to be found. Yes, truly it was an abomination in the eyes of the Astrals. Ignis valiantly attempted to put into practice the advice he was only just considering giving to Noctis. He had better schedule those poker games sooner rather than later.

“Oh…” Noctis said, his open face visibly falling. Ignis couldn’t help but smile at that. He did truly find the degree to which Noctis sought his approval endearing, especially so when he falls so short when trying to hide it. Ignis puts his fork down and pushes the plate away ever so slightly, perhaps not as subtly as he would have wished. He has no desire to crush Noct’s hopes, here, far from it. In fact it would be wonderful if this was only the start of the Prince taking an interest in  _ basic life skills _ like  _ feeding oneself _ . Or if the Prince took an interest in, well, Ignis’s interests. But a part of him, a shockingly loud part of him, protests at the possibility of Noct’s independence in these matters. That part of him wants nothing more than for Noct to continue to expect and enjoy his baking, forever.

“Iggy…?” Noct asks, and Ignis realizes he’s been lost in thought yet again. Being so easily distracted by Noctis was a frankly embarrassing deficiency that Ignis had hoped he’d had grown out of long ago. These private moments with Noctis would no doubt serve as practice for maintaining his composure around him in the future. 

“Well,” Ignis begins, still attempting to calculate a game plan that wouldn’t negatively affect Noct’s confidence, but would instead encourage him to try again later. But he falters again; this damnable weakness of his. In the face of Noct trying so hard to cover his need for a kind word from Ignis, he cannot help but to tease.

“It’s completely inedible,” Ignis finishes, managing to keep his face straight everywhere but in the glittering mirth of his eyes. 

“ _ Iggy _ ,” Noctis whines, and Ignis has to laugh. 

“Would you really have me lie to you, my Prince?” Ignas asks, laying it on thick like cream, a small smile in his voice. “Could I really in good faith remain your most trusted advisor then?” Noctis groans.

“You could’ve at least let me down easy, man,” Noctis says.

“Yes, well, we all know how delicate a little princeling you are,” says Ignis, face fully breaking out into a smile. 

“I’ll show you delicate,” Noctis says, rising from his seat and approaching Ignis in mock menace.

“Oh my,” Ignis says, raising his hands in equally false surrender. “And here I thought you had already worked out all the physical frustrations of the day after sparring with Gladio this morning.” Noctis steps behind him and drops his hands onto Ignis’s shoulders, squeezing him a little too hard. He quickly eases up, and then sighs deep and long.

“Iggy, I.. I just wanted to…” Noctis trails off, shy in this too, underneath his darling attempts at bravado. He digs his thumbs gently into Ignis’s upper back, which makes him shiver. “I just…  _ wantedtosurpriseyou _ …” he mumbles, barely audible. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Ignis asks innocently, light laughter still harmonious in his tone. Noctis grunts in frustration and pushes Ignis, hard, at the back of his head. Ignis laughs once more, but his laugh turns into a surprised moan when Noct’s clever fingers drop down to the back of his neck to squeeze him there. Perhaps this evening Noctis has been sufficiently teased; perhaps he’ll allow them this, while Noctis presses deep into him, into the tight sore muscles of his back. 

It’s nice, it really is. Much nicer than Noctis’s rather sad attempt at cake. A massage really was just the ticket; he knows he’s been described as “permanently clenched” in the past, by some. Furthermore he knows he would never of his own volition take time off to see a masseuse, unless perhaps an appointment was forcibly scheduled in for him. But he doesn’t require any convincing to lean in to Noctis’s warm hands as his strong fingers seek out all the hard knots and bumps down Ignis’s spine. 

Despite all his training and swordplay, Noctis has still somehow maintained the soft hands of a prince, and he trails them gently along the sides of Ignis’s neck. Ignis can’t suppress the gasp that comes of such an intimate touch, and the warmth of the room begins to register acutely. He lets the myriad stressors of the day slip away from him as his eyes slide closed. Noctis continues his soft and insistent pressure, kneading Ignis’s shoulder blades with considerable, and yet insufficient power.

“A, a little h-harder, i-if… if you wouldn’t mind,” Ignis manages, surprised to encounter the struggle. He feels he’s gone soft and slow in Noctis’s hands, pressing back into them to show Noctis exactly where he wants him. He feels almost shameless like this, allowing himself low moans of pleasure as Noctis works him up and down. In that moment, he is very nearly startled as he almost thinks he hears an answering sound from the boy behind him. 

“N...Noct?” he asks, dreamily, sleepily. He hears a long slow hiss of an inhalation from behind his back. 

“Iggy,” Noct whispers back, and he slides his hands around Ignis’s shoulders while he moves in front of him, imposing himself between Ignis and the table at which he sits. “ _ Iggy _ ,” he says again, with feeling, as he looks at him from above. He reaches down to remove Ignis’s glasses. Ignis’s lips part in anticipation of a question, but now Noct’s small hands are holding the sides of his face, holding him steady. It must be his current slow and sluggish state, but Ignis doesn’t push his hands away, doesn’t move to stand, just sits obediently as Noct tips his face up and leans down and softly, softly presses his lips against his own. He makes a small sound of surprise which rings sweetly against Noct’s noise of pleasure. 

Ignis closes his eyes.

He thinks about what is currently transpiring: this is his Prince, his lord, his soon to be King. This is his charge, his friend, the boy he cooks for and cleans for and teaches. This is the man he was made for. The man he was  _ born  _ for. 

But then Noctis slips his tongue past his lips, and he doesn’t think anymore. 

When it’s over Noct steps back, looking down into his face with much the same expression from before, but this time his open concern for Ignis’s approval lies naked upon his features. Ignis reaches for his glasses, slides them back on. He pushes back his chair; rises. He heads for the door, mind racing:  _ this is a schoolboy crush. This is born of Noct’s infinite loss, his need for love, for care. This is the inevitable outcome of too much history, too much trust _ .

He reaches the door and doesn’t turn to look at the boy he’s left standing alone in the kitchen. He puts his hand on the door handle; drops it. 

He pushes his glasses up his face, his pink warm face, his heart beating practically out of his body, and he drops his head to his chest.

And he cannot keep the smile from blossoming across his face like flowers in the spring.


End file.
